


Fuck Valentine's Day

by jinlinli



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aggressively Platonic Dating, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Ridiculous pet names, Valentine's Day, grumpy assholes, hot air balloon rides, oblivious idiots, until it's not so platonic anymore hehehe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinlinli/pseuds/jinlinli
Summary: Steve and Bucky's friends finally get sick and tired of their obliviousness, so they set them up on a blind date on Valentine's Day. But of course, they think it's just a prank because they'reidiots.“You know what we should do?” Bucky says. “We should stage a coup.”A smile slowly starts to spread on Steve’s face. He leans forward. “Go on.”“They’re freaking terrible at this Valentine’s Day thing. We’d be a million times better at this romantic bullshit, and we’re not evendating.”Steve’s full on grinning now. “So we’ll show ‘em how it’s done. We’ll have the best goddamn Valentine’s Day ever.”“We’ll put all the real couples to shame with how fucking great we are at Valentine’s Day.”





	Fuck Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I banged this all out in like a day. I really should've been studying for my midterm in two days instead, but goddammit, I wanted to get this fic done and posted by Valentine's Day! I can't believe I actually managed to pull it off. 
> 
> Thank you [Gerry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivereader/pseuds/obsessivereader) for your excellent betawork! I didn't give you a lot of time to read through this, and some of the typos and errors in my draft were frankly embarrassing. So thank you so much for putting in the time to help get this fic polished up!
> 
> To my readers, enjoy the ride!

Bucky tugs at the lapel of his blazer and groans quietly under his breath. Natasha had dressed him just a little too nicely for the bistro she’d booked for him, and really, he wonders who the hell he’s supposed to impress. He’s a single dude on a blind date with another single person on fucking Valentine’s Day. He didn’t even know he was going until Natasha rolled into his apartment at 5 AM and told him, “This is pathetic even for you, Barnes. I’m staging an intervention.”

Then she spent the rest of the morning browbeating Bucky into becoming a presentable human being fit for social interaction. It’d been a long and arduous process, and Bucky had griped shamelessly throughout all of it. After he’d showered and brushed his teeth, Natasha had produced the blazer, white T-shirt, and jeans combo, and then he’d started getting suspicious. You don’t wear those skinny jeans when you’re just going to Denny’s with a friend who’s taken you to the hospital after you slash your lip open shotgunning a beer. 

Bucky had started struggling in earnest when she began trimming back his beard. Not too much because Natasha was holding a straight razor dangerously close to his jugular, but enough to make his displeasure known. She’d even put makeup— _it’s tinted moisturizer, Barnes, get over yourself_ —on his face. Natasha was bound and determined to force him to endure a first date on the worst possible day of the year for first dates. 

He groans again and hunches over to read the brunch menu. It’s all way overpriced, and he really hopes whoever he’s set up with is willing to split the bill. Or is at least a decent conversationalist. He doubts it though. Valentine’s Day blind dates are for the sad, the lonely, and the desperate. None of whom make particularly good first dates. 

And then Bucky hears the distinctive sound of Steve Rogers laughing his ass off. He looks up, and the man himself is standing at the door of the bistro. It’s obvious that someone—most likely, Sam—picked out his wardrobe this morning. He’s in white button-down and a pair of fitted slacks that Bucky’s positive doesn’t belong to him. Then he realizes that Steve has _gel_ in his hair, and promptly loses it.

“Oh my god,” he manages to gasp out, “you look like an _idiot_.”

Steve’s still laughing when he plops down in the chair opposite Bucky. “Christ, what happened to your face?”

“It’s tinted moisturizer, dickhead. It evens out my complexion.”

“I was talking about the beard. You look like you’re about to meet someone’s _parents_.” 

“Ha ha, what a travesty,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. He’s secretly relieved that it’s Steve and not some random stranger. “So which one of our asshole friends put you up to this?”

“Sam, obviously. You?”

“Like I would’ve suffered this from anyone but Nat.”

Steve snorts and takes a sip from his water glass. “Oh, so _that’s_ how it is.”

“Sam and Nat making fun of our tragic singleness? Yeah, I figured the moment you walked in.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and says, “I can’t believe the happy couple decided to celebrate the most romantic day of the year by pranking their tragically single friends. Rubbing the deplorable state of our love lives in our faces.”

“Sick sadistic bastards.”

They subside into silence for a few minutes contemplating the awfulness of their friends and what they’re going to do to exact revenge. Bucky’s thinking of doing awful things to Sam’s car. 

“This holiday fucking _sucks_ ,” Steve bursts out.

“I know right!” Bucky says, gesturing wildly. “Who comes up with this shit? Making a whole chunk of the world population miserable just cause they happen to be single.”

“And it’s not like you need to be in love to be happy.”

“Exactly!” Bucky thumps his hand against the table. “I’m _perfectly_ happy as I am. I don’t need anyone else to complete me or some other bullshit. If I wanted to go out and do stuff, I’d just go with you.”

“Same here. We don’t need anyone else,” Steve says. “And to be honest, it’s kind of a pathetic prank. Neither of us really care if we’re single.”

“It really is. It’s just sad that pranking us is Sam and Nat’s idea of a romantic day.”

“They _suck_ at this. Making fun of your single friends is an awful way to spend your Valentine’s Day.”

And then a thought occurs to Bucky.

“You know what we should do?” he says. “We should stage a coup.”

A smile slowly starts to spread on Steve’s face. He leans forward. “Go on.”

“They’re freaking terrible at this Valentine’s Day thing. We’d be a million times better at this romantic bullshit, and we’re not even _dating_.”

Steve’s full on grinning now. “So we’ll show ‘em how it’s done. We’ll have the best goddamn Valentine’s Day ever.”

“We’ll put all the real couples to shame with how fucking great we are at Valentine’s Day.”

“We’re free and single, and Valentine’s Day can go fuck itself.”

Bucky grins and bangs his fist against the table. “That’s what I’m talking about. _Fuck_ Valentine’s Day.”

Right as he finishes talking, the waitress appears beside them with a disconcerted expression on her face. “You boys ready to order?”

Steve turns to the waitress and flashes her a winning smile. “What’s the most obscenely expensive thing on the menu? I’m ordering that.”

“That would be the entrecôte au poivre.”

“Yeah that.”

“And I’ll have the trout grenobloise,” Bucky says, butchering the pronunciation. He leans forward and whispers, “Do you even know what you just ordered?”

“Do _you_ know what you ordered?” Steve hisses back. 

“At least I know mine is fish.”

“The entrecôte au poivre is a pepper steak,” the waitress helpfully adds in. “How would you like it cooked?”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I totally knew that. Medium rare?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You know even less about French food than I do.”

“Shut up, it’s supposed to be romantic. We’re doing this Valentine’s Day schtick right.”

“Well, in that case, apparently snails are an aphrodisiac.”

“Perfect, can we please have the escargot as well?” Steve says to the waitress who’s starting to look a little harried. “Thank you, I think that’s all.”

Bucky watches her hurried retreat. “We’re assholes. We need to leave a big tip.”

 

* * *

 

“Who eats a whole steak at eleven o’clock in the morning,” Bucky says as they leave the restaurant. They had in fact left a large tip for the beleaguered waitress.

“I do,” Steve says and grimaces, “apparently.”

“We spent way too much money on your eleven o’clock steak. You should’ve just gotten a nice cheap salad.”

“I’m sorry, _dearest_. I thought today was supposed to be the Best Fucking Valentine’s Day Ever.”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky grumbles and then in his most sickeningly sweet voice, “Sweetie pie, what shall we do next?”

“Well, my love muffin, I was thinking chocolate-covered strawberries and a bouquet of roses.”

“That is _so_ cliche.”

“It’s classic, so shut up and enjoy it while I romance the shit out of you.”

“Ugh, fine. But I get to serenade you with Careless Whisper,” Bucky pauses, “baby cakes.”

“I hate you,” Steve says and turns on his heel to start walking to the flower shop.

It’s only a few blocks away from the bistro, but when they arrive, it’s completely sold out. Barren. Stripped clean of all signs of life. Even the single employee standing behind the counter looks half-dead. “We’re out of stock,” he says as soon as they walk in. “And yes, we’ve called every other flower shop in the city, they’re sold out too. So is the Edible Arrangements store.”

Steve stares at the empty shelves with a vaguely aghast look on his face. “You don’t even have those crappy wilted flowers no one wants to buy?”

“Sold those this morning.” The employee shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re expecting here, guys. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky groans. “Oh my god, _it’s_ _Valentine’s Day_.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Yeah, no shit. Isn’t that the whole reason why we’re here?”

“No, idiot. It’s Valentine’s Day which means _everyone else_ is buying romantic shit too. How the hell are we supposed to out-romance everyone if we can’t even buy a goddamn bouquet of flowers?”

“Hey, hey,” Steve says, “I resent the implication that we need to buy commercial goods in order to be romantic. This holiday’s enough of a corporate scam as is.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do, genius?” Bucky snaps. Steve arches an eyebrow at him. “I mean, sweet cheeks.”

“I dunno. Have a picnic in the park, share a milkshake, ride a Ferris wheel, watch a drive-in movie—”

“Oh my god, you’re secretly _into_ this sappy bullshit. You’re a closet romantic!”

Steve glowers at him and crosses his arms. “I resent that.”

“I bet your Netflix is full of John Hughes movies.”

“Umm, guys?” the employee says. “Can you take this conversation somewhere else? You’re kind of loitering.”

They apologize and trek outside to regroup. Apparently, Steve has a whole _checklist_ of romantic things to do together. He keeps rattling them off as they catch the bus to the local amusement park. Steve goes to wait in line only to find that tickets are sold out. Bucky stands off to the side and mutters unflattering things about the day under his breath. 

The drive-in theater closed down decades ago, so they try the regular theater, and that’s sold out too. Even the sci-fi horror thriller with the frankly disgusting scenes of the alien monster devouring people whole. He doesn’t even want to know what kind of people think that’s a good movie date. The romantic horseback riding on the beach gig is full until April. The _bowling alley_ wouldn’t even take them. And every remotely nice restaurant in town has been booked solid, and Bucky suddenly gets the sneaking premonition that Natasha had called in their bistro reservations weeks in advance. 

The grocery store had a whole display dedicated to strawberries, but that’s been long since picked clean. They do manage to scrounge up a five dollar box of chocolates and proceed to share it sitting on a bench at the park. Apparently everyone else also had the idea to have an amorous picnic because the grass is chock full of red-checkered blankets and tittering couples. Bucky’s pretty sure the only reason they managed to secure this bench is because he looks about ready to murder someone. The couple that’d previously occupied it took one look at him and fled the scene.

“Valentine’s Day freaking blows,” Steve says, slumping further into his seat.

“Worst holiday ever.” 

“I don’t really feel romantic after all this. Mostly just tired and pissed off.”

Bucky picks up a chocolate, squints at it suspiciously, then puts it back in the box. He knocks his head against the back of the bench. “We haven’t really gotten around to the romancing, pal. It’s just been a lot of running around all day with nothing to show for it.”

“I hate to say it,” Steve says, “but we kinda suck at this.”

Bucky glares at him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I refuse to accept that. We’d ace this romantic shit given half the chance. We just haven’t had the opportunity to try.”

“Well, try now,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “We’re here. We’ve got our Valentine’s Day chocolate, and we’re in the park. It’s almost a picnic.” He gestures vaguely between them. “So romance me.”

“That’s not how it works, asshole,” Bucky grumbles. “It’s gotta be right. This with the shitty chocolate and the public indecency charges going down right in front of us—it’s just wrong. The whole atmosphere here is off.”

“So you have to get in the mood first. The moment’s gotta be perfect.” Steve starts to grin. “Sonuvabitch, _you’re_ a closet romantic too! I fucking knew it!”

“I am not!”

“If you’re not, then you’re gonna have to accept that you can’t romance me even if you tried. You can’t have it both ways.”

“Fuck you, I absolutely can,” Bucky says, then adds, “sweet cheeks.”

Steve scowls at him. “Snookums.”

“Doll face.”

“Cowpie.”

“My moon and stars,” Bucky says.

Steve smiles, slow and evil. “Daddy.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You can’t even beat me at _pet names_ ,” Steve says. “There’s no way you’d be able to romance me.”

“That was cheating,” Bucky grumbles. “And I _told_ you, the setting’s gotta be right.”

“Well, I’m fresh out of ideas for this ‘perfect’ setting. I already tried everything I could think of.” Steve pops the last chocolate into his mouth and stands up. “You’re gonna have to figure this one out on your own, Buck.”

“ _Fine_.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky has _one_ idea, and he has no clue if it’ll work out, but he sure as hell isn’t going to back down now. He makes the necessary calls and does a bit of groveling, but by the end of the afternoon, he’s got a solid plan. He ditches Steve at the farmer’s market to run to Tony’s apartment to jimmy the window open and rifle through his closet. Tony’s _exactly_ the kind of rich asshole to own more than one suit.

Steve gets so engrossed talking with a beekeeper about his methods, he doesn’t even notice Bucky’s gone until he shows up with two tuxes in garment bags. Then he just raises an eyebrow and goes, “Really?”

“We’re either doing this right or not at all,” Bucky says. “Come on, we need to catch a taxi to get there.”

Steve follows him with a skeptical look on his face, and they sit through the long ride to the outskirts of the city in relatively comfortable silence. The suburbs eventually give way to the countryside. Bucky bounces his leg nervously as they pull to a stop at their destination. As he pays the taxi driver’s fare, he watches Steve peer out the windows, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

“A hot air balloon?”

Bucky opens the taxi door and steps out. The multi-colored panels of the balloon hang above a small squat building. It’s much more enormous than he imagined it to be. Gravel crunches as the taxi pulls away. There’s a man standing next to the entrance of the building, and he waves them over.

“You’re Bucky?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“My name’s Henry. I gotta say, I normally don’t take flight requests on such short notice, and it’s a little too late in the day to take people up, but well, I’ve always loved this holiday.” He rocks back on his heels and smiles wide at them. “Couldn’t deny a couple their first Valentine’s Day, now could I?”

Steve turns to Bucky and quirks an eyebrow. “Right,” he says. “It’s our first Valentine’s Day together.”

“Next time, remember to book a few weeks in advance, yeah?” Henry says with a laugh.

He takes them inside to sign the necessary waivers and walk them through the safety briefing. He’s a friendly guy, and on occasion, he cracks a joke about Bucky nearly ruining Valentine’s Day for his boyfriend by failing to plan ahead. Every time, Steve sends him a wry look. When everything’s wrapped up, they duck into the bathroom to change into their tuxes.

“So,” Steve says from the next stall over. “We’re a couple now, huh?”

“I didn’t think he’d take us up if we were just two bros platonically romancing the hell out of each other,” Bucky says as he struggles into his suit. It’s just a little too small. Tony’s always been more wiry than muscular. “He’s technically closed for the day, but he agreed to one more flight as a favor.”

There’s a muffled thump from Steve’s stall. “Christ, where’d you even get these suits? I think I’m gonna pop a seam.”

“Tony.”

“He’s at least two sizes smaller than us, Bucky.”

“Well, _you_ try renting a tux on fucking Valentine’s Day. You should be commending me for my resourcefulness.” Bucky hears a stall door swing open and he pokes his head out to look. He promptly bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, it’s even worse than I thought it’d be.”

Steve glowers at him in his ridiculously tight suit. The fabric is stretched so tight around his shoulders and biceps that it looks ready to burst. It creaks ominously every time he so much as moves. “Yuk it up, you look just as bad as me,” Steve says, which is probably true.

Bucky claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

They troop out of the bathroom together and meet Henry outside. He chuckles when he sees them but thankfully doesn’t comment. The sun is starting to get low on the horizon, and Henry ushers them quickly into the balloon’s basket.

And then they’re taking off.

“Holy shit,” Steve says, and Bucky has to agree. 

As the balloon rises, they’re filled with the most surreal feeling of weightlessness. The ground slowly shrinks beneath them until they’re seeing more sky than land. He’d thought it’d be a little like an airplane taking off, and you see the countryside moving below you until you move above the clouds. But this isn’t anything like that. It feels more real and present than just sitting on an airplane. 

The sun is a vibrant red thing as it sits on the horizon. Above them, the clouds are stained pink and orange. Bucky looks at the long shadows the pine trees cast, the beetle-like cars on the road, the orderly rows of the suburbs in the distance.

“This is amazing,” Steve breathes out. His eyes are wide with wonder as if he’s trying to take in as much of it as he can.

Bucky smirks. “Told you I could do romance.”

“Shut up, I’m having a moment.”

“You mean _we’re_ having a moment. We’re up here together.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine, you win. You can do romance.”

“ _Thank you_.”

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised. You _would_ pick the most over-the-top romantic gesture ever. You couldn’t settle for _anything less_ than sunset hot air balloon rides and tuxedos.”

“You either do it right or not at all,” Bucky says, gently knocking his shoulder into Steve’s. “And hey, I bet this Valentine’s Day date completely blows whatever Sam and Nat are doing out of the water.”

Steve barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, you’re right. They could never top this.”

“We’ve officially won Valentine’s Day. We fucking rock.”

Henry chuckles as he fiddles with the burner. “You don’t win at Valentine’s Day. It’s not a competition.”

“That’s debatable,” Bucky mutters under his breath, and Steve elbows him in the ribs. “Hey! That hurt, asshole.”

“Be nice.”

“I _am_ nice,” he says. “And romantic as hell.”

Steve rolls his eyes and leans against the edge of the basket to get a better look at the view. For a moment, the sun catches on his face, lighting it up like it’s on fire. Bucky quietly watches him enjoy the scenery before moving up to press their shoulders together. Steve leans into the contact seemingly almost on instinct. The silence is comfortable.

In all honesty, Bucky’s glad he’s here with Steve. The day started off kind of rotten, but it’s shaping up to be one of the best he’ll have all year. Just hanging out with Steve, enjoying each other’s company. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do this more often. He wouldn’t want anyone else but Steve here beside him in this hot air balloon. 

Bucky sighs, settles in more comfortably against Steve, and enjoys the ride.

 

* * *

 

The taxi home passes quickly.

Steve doesn’t live too far from Bucky, so they both get off at his place. Bucky can walk the rest of the way home. They make the trek up the stairs to Steve’s apartment in silence. It’s not quite comfortable. Towards the end of their epic platonic Valentine’s Day date, it had started to feel like well, an actual date. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to be fake romancing Steve out of spite, and he’d started to genuinely enjoy it for what it was. And Bucky honestly doesn’t know what the hell to make of it.

They stop at Steve’s door. For a while, he watches Steve fiddle around with his keys until he finds the right one. Bucky stares at his hands, and all he can think about is that one of them should say something. This whole day easily could’ve been awful, but then Steve showed up, and it became kind of great. It feels wrong that it should end on this strange awkward tension. Fuck, this day was too good to let it finish on a sour note.

“So I guess Valentine’s Day isn’t as much of a shitty holiday as I thought it was,” he says.

Steve looks up from his keys. “Yeah, it was kinda nice.”

“Woah, woah, hey asshole,” Bucky says. “Only _kinda_ nice?”

“I mean, you really pulled out all the stops with that hot air balloon ride, but it was still missing that something special, y’know?” Steve’s starting to smile that shit-eating grin of his, and Bucky’s never been more glad to see it.

“Well shit, what more could you possibly want? Champagne and hors d'oeuvres? A violinist playing in the background?”

Steve hums thoughtfully. “Would’ve been nice.”

“I’d like to see _you_ top a date like that. You couldn’t even manage to buy me flowers.”

“We shared a box of chocolates and took a walk through the park,” Steve says primly. “It’s simple and classic.”

“Classic, my ass.” Bucky snorts. “Admit it, my date was so much better than yours.”

“Maybe. By a hair.”

“You keep telling yourself that, buddy.” Bucky claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna head home. G’night.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “What I don’t get a kiss goodbye? Wow, you’re an awful date.”

Bucky whips back around with a glare. “Oh, fuck you. I’m an _awesome_ date, and you know it.”

“Yeah? Then prove it.”

“Fine.”

Bucky steps into Steve’s space, maintaining scowling eye contact with him. He winds his hand into Steve’s collar and pushes their mouths together firmly. The first contact is a shock. Steve’s lips are unexpectedly soft and chapped, and Bucky’d never even realized he’d thought about Steve’s mouth enough to form an opinion. A puff of warm air brushes his skin when Steve exhales. A strange shuddering sensation runs down Bucky’s spine.

They pull apart and stare at each other for a long time. A full gamut of emotion flickers across Steve’s face, and Bucky wants nothing more than to lean in again and kiss him. He doesn’t move. Once can be excused by Steve’s challenge, but twice? That says too much about the thoughts running through Bucky’s head. It’ll tell Steve that he’s starting to realize that maybe this date wasn’t as platonic as it should be. That Bucky feels more deeply about Steve than he may be ready to accept. That he might’ve been in love this whole fucking time. And the last thing he wants is for Steve to know _any_ of this.

“Right,” Bucky says, coughing. “I should—”

“You said earlier that the moment’s gotta be right,” Steve blurts out. “So now is the moment right?”

“What?”

“I—” Steve stutters out and stops. His eyes flicker down to Bucky’s mouth. 

Fuck it, he thinks and dives in again.

He closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to see the expression on Steve’s face if he recoils and pushes him away. But Steve doesn’t push him away. He kisses back, and Bucky lets out a soft groan as he presses closer to Steve. Their lips drag against each other, the friction drawing another quiet noise from Bucky’s throat. Steve’s hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck. His fingers tangle through the strands of Bucky’s hair.

They break apart to catch their breath. Bucky looks at Steve, and it’s like he’s seeing him for the first time. The slightly crooked tilt to his nose, the graceless flop of his hair, the old acne scars. He’s never seen a more beautiful face. _My god, I’m in love with you_ , Bucky thinks. 

They kiss again, a light press of lips. And again and again. They kiss until they’re laughing into each other’s mouths at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. They’d been in love with each other and hadn’t even realized it. How had they not noticed? How had _nobody else_ noticed? Not even—

Bucky pushes Steve back to thump his head against the doorframe. “Oh my god, we’re _idiots._ ”

“That’s not the most reassuring thing to hear after kissing a guy,” Steve says dryly.

“No, I mean,” Bucky waves his arms and groans, “ _the blind date_. Sam and Nat weren’t pranking us, they were _trying to get us together_.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says. 

“They thought Valentine’s Day was the right day to do this?” He groans. “It’s official, I hate this holiday.”

Steve smiles and tugs him into another kiss. “No, you don’t,” he says into his mouth.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Fine, I don’t. I kinda love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell about these mutually oblivious idiots with me on [tumblr](http://jinlinli.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
